


ad astra per aspera

by HorntailedOwl



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, drift (or deadlock) isnt here yet, i will tag him when he is, im just taking what i like from a lot of things, this isnt really based on any universe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:53:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26300731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HorntailedOwl/pseuds/HorntailedOwl
Summary: Ratchet has three goals: ask his crush out, party with his friends and graduate before they expel him, in that order.His plans get interrupted by the brewing war he had been ignoring so far.Now he needs to do his best to survive and get back to his life in Iacon.Or perhaps build a new one.
Relationships: Drift | Deadlock/Ratchet
Kudos: 6





	ad astra per aspera

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Dead Past](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/678916) by Onlysomeofthetime. 



> im not perfectly happy with how this turned out, but i have to post it or i will spend too much time trying to perfect it.  
> ratchet is a bit ooc here. thats on purpose im trying to show his change into the mech we know and love ;)

_I gotta feeling  
That tonight's gonna be a good night_

The upbeat song jerked Ratchet from his sleep with the power of ten predabeasts. He scrambled on his nightstand for his alarm with his optics off, as the annoying thing kept blasting out the song on the highest volume. Not for the first time he cursed himself for putting his favorite song as his alarm, instead of choosing something he hated anyway.

After a klick of fruitless searching he onlined his optics and squinted at his nightstand. It was empty.

The song went on.

Did he push it off the stand? He hadn’t heard a crash, but it was possible he didn’t notice it over the noise.

Another klick of twisting in his berth and he was staring at the floor next to his nightstand.

It was also empty.

Where did he?

“You put it in the washracks,” his roommate growled, his voice muffled from his pillow.

“Why would I…” Ratchet mumbled, staring at the empty floor. He was wondering absentmindedly why his younger self thought it was a great idea to figure out how to shut off an internal alarm without waking up.

“Get the frag up and let me sleep,” his roommate snapped.

Ratchet finally remembered why he put it there. If he was late for one more of his Flighframes 101 class he would fail it and have to take another semester of college.

He glared at the empty floor. He should just fail. Several of his friends could get him a job as an assistant to some bigwig in the government even without the degree. Then he wouldn't have to wake up. Even if as a science caste mech he couldn’t work as an assistant. Perhaps he should get a frame exception.

“Your parents are going to flip if you fail,” his roommate said. “Now get out and let me sleep.”

Ratchet groaned at the reminder, but rolled out of bed. His roommates whine at the crash of his landing made the scruffs worth it.

Normally the two of them got along about as well as two completely different people could, but now Ratchet didn't have it in himself to be forgiving.

The alarm was where he left it last night, on the shelf next to his polish. He glared at it as the song started again. It almost seemed like it was louder this time around.

He has deliberately chosen this class because it was the only one that gave enough credits while also being in the afternoon. Why a medical class counted towards a political science degree he didn’t know. Not that it mattered right now. What mattered was that they, probably just to spite him, put this extracurricular class trip in the early morning.

He ignored that he wouldn't have to do it if he hadn’t skipped so many classes.

“Finally!” his roommate groaned as Ratchet shut off the alarm. Ratchet ignored him.

He wasn't going to get back to sleep, so he may as well go to this stupid fieldtrip. He thought he wouldn’t have to go on anymore once he reached his majority, but life just sucked sometimes.

A quick wash was enough to get rid of the evidence of last night's party, but he refused to polish himself to a shine for a class trip.

But if he wasn't going to get to sleep in... He smirked as he grabbed his roommate's polish on his way out and threw it. It crashed into the slagsucker’s face with a satisfying clang.

His roommate yelped before bolting upright, looking around startled by the impact.

Ratched started snickering.

“Frag you!” his roommate snapped. He picked up the polish and glared as he threw it back.

Ratchet easily danced out of the way of the botched throw.

“I love you too,” he cooed back and waved as he left their room.

* * *

The shuttle that was going to take them to Praxus was already there when he arrived, as were most of his classmates.

“Ratchet,” the teacher greeted him with dismayed surprise. “Do you have the documents for entering Praxus?”

“I’m not an idiot,” Ratchet rolled his eyes. ”Despite what all of you think,” he muttered and flashed the datapad at the teacher. “I know I can’t go otherwise.”

“You gave every indication you weren’t planning on going,” the teacher snapped. “Don’t blame me for being surprised.”

Ratchet smirked at him as he boarded the shuttle.

“I’m glad I’m not going with them,” the teacher muttered to himself.

The shuttle was emptier than he expected, only about fifteen people present. Of course that meant he could sit alone the entire way. He sprawled out on two seats.

It wasn't that he didn't get along with his classmates, in fact he had several people he could talk with. But the people who didn't mind a PoliSci major taking medic classes and the people who went on an elective class trip for an already remote field of study didn’t exactly overlap.

His less snobbish -and more tolerable- classmates had better things to do than learn about flightframe diseases. Most of them were probably never even going to see a flightframe, nevermind treat one. Of course they were also medics, so they didn’t have a lot to talk about outside of the class, so they weren’t friends either. The few slackers who also took this class for the credits like him already dropped out, complaining about the difficulty. Perhaps they should have skipped a few classes, if they found it difficult. After all Ratchet did and his grades were good enough that he was going to pass the class once he had the attendance with this field trip.

The TA for the class climbed on board and looked over the rows, counting them. Once she was sure everyone was on board, she sighed.

“We are leaving now, so if anyone isn’t here they won’t be coming,” she announced.

The shuttle shook as it started and Ratchet got out a datapad.

He had three unread messages and one of them was from Caudillo. He sat up. Caudillo couldn't see him, but Ratchet still cursed himself for only washing. His paint still had transfers from when he bumped into a table and fell into a crystal last night.

He could always decline if Caudillo wanted to videochat, he consoled himself as he opened the message.

_i had fun at the party with you_  
_i know you were kind of drunk when you asked_  
_but if you still want to hang out later i would like that_

The last traces of tiredness vanished as his lines filled with electricity. Caudillo asked him out! Or did he? Was Ratchet reading too much into this?

He sent a screenshot of the message to the groupchat.

_did he ask me out or am i imagining things???  
and what am i supposed to answer?_

He stared at the screen for what felt like klicks before an answer came.

_modelsystem is asleep, try again later.  
i need help, you can't just ignore your friend in need  
sleep  
i can't sleep.  
i'm having that fieldtrip, remember?_

No one answered. Did he go back to sleep? When Ratchet needed support? He couldn't just answer, what if he embarrassed himself.

Another five klicks and no answer.

Fine. He huffed. They were going to speak later then.

Meanwhile he was going to answer his other messages.

One was from Wheeljack. Ratchet grimaced. He didn't have the time or energy to answer his little brother’s thousand questions. And it wasn't like college was so difficult, Wheeljack didn't need several people holding his hand.

He ignored it.

The third was a newsletter from an obscure political magazine. He wished he could ignore this too. The next chapter of Love in the Rust sea was waiting for him, almost begging to be read. He grimaced at the newsletter. It was a miracle that someone found out where the teacher for his Current Politics and its Ramifications class got the quotes he used for discussion. It made an already hard class a lot easier, but right now he didn't want to deal with figuring out the topic for the next class. Wasn’t going to this stupid fieldtrip already enough productivity for one day?

He grimaced as he clicked the link. He was already on a roll, he may as well do it now.

* * *

By the time the shuttle landed, Ratchet actually looked forward to seeing the research lab they were visiting. If he had to read one more news story about the dangers of the KAON alliance he was going to bash his processor against his seat. They were a trumped up terrorist organization that got a foothold in a few of the poorer city states, nothing to worry about in Iacon. But every recent article on the site at least mentioned them, so they were definitely going to talk about it next class.

He wasn't looking forward to it. Not like he ever was to any of his classes.

He shuffled off the transport with the others.

“Everyone here?” the TA asked, then continued without waiting for an answer, “Good.” She gestured to the mech standing next to her, with a medics paint job and a disgusted grimace barely hidden behind a polite smile. “This is Radiculitis, who is going to give us a tour and answer your questions.” She clapped once and turned to the mech apparently called Radiculitis. Ratchet made it a point to forget his name. “I'm leaving this in your capable hands.” The TA continued.

The researcher sighed.

“My name is Radiculitis, as your teacher already said. And this...” He threw his hands out and turned his head. “Is the Research Centre for Flightframe Diseases or RCFD for short. This institution is the second best research centre for flightframe diseases on Cybertron.” He droned the whole thing, like he had already repeated it a thousand times.

This trip was already shaping up to be horribly boring in Ratchet’s opinion.

His eyes glanced over the class during his speech and his eyes stopped for an astroklick on Ratchet. Not that that was a surprise. In the sea of red and white most of his classmates sported, Ratchet’s chartreuse paint stood out.

“The best one is obviously in Vos,” he drawled, then turned. “Lets go.” He power walked into the building.

They scrambled to catch up to him.

* * *

Ratchet was right, this tour was incredibly boring. Their guide somehow managed to both sound monotone, while also talking so fast he was almost incomprehensible. By the second lab Ratchet’s attention was flagging and by the fourth he stopped even pretending that he was listening. By the seventh only the most diligent of his classmates were paying attention, and his saviour arrived with the soft ding of his datapad.

He was already at the end of the group so it was only half a klick for him to get it out of his subspace and glance at it.

_omp, did he really write that.  
i jsut woke up from a well deserved nap  
**well deserved...**  
and my bestie has a date!_

Ratchet thought of giving a sarcastic reply, but was too excited.

_yes!!!  
what am i supposed to say?  
you accept, of course  
**obviously you say no to the mech you have been crushing on since the start of the semester, duh**  
you are so right, i will get right on destroying his spark  
ugh, you two! stop being sarcastic at each other for a klick  
we need to plan the perfect reply  
ye-_

Ratchet accidentally pressed the send button when he crashed into the mech in front of him.

“Why did you stop?” he snapped.

The mech in front of him threw Ratchet a distracted glance, then lifted his hand.

“Are there any flightframes here?” he asked.

“No.” The researcher scowled at the interruption. “Why are you asking?”

“I heard an engine.”

“Your imagination is not my problem,” the researcher snapped.

“I heard it too,” a different mech interrupted hesitantly.

Most of them went quiet to listen. There was nothing, and Ratchet was just about to go back to his conversation, when he heard it. In the distance you could faintly make out a flightframe engine.  
“This is a purely research based center, we don’t treat patients here,” the researcher spoke up. “They are probably just visiting somewhere in the city.”

“What about the clinical trial?” someone asked from up front, like that was the most important question here.

“We have contact with several specialized hospitals who assist us in them.”

They could hear another flightframe, this time closer. The lightweight -comparatively- engine couldn’t be confused with shuttle engines.

Ratchet looked at one of the others, but before he could comment they could hear a third engine.

He frowned, as the others started to whisper to each other. Flightframes rarely left Vos and its territories.

“Everyone calm down,” the TA lifted her hands. “It is probably a political envoy.”

That would have made sense, but... He hadn't heard anything about any political envoys. His teachers would've spent a lot of time discussing the isolationist Vos sending envoys to anyone.

“If you could continue,” the TA turned to the researcher.

“Of course.” The researcher blinked then straightened himself. “The next lab is studying…”

Ratchet tuned him out. The datapad in his hand dinged with a new message.

Frag, he forgot them.

_come on ratch, don't start planning the bonding right now  
**see thats why we are always sarcastic  
we need to counter your cloying sweetness**  
yes, im the sweetest :p  
**that wasnt a compliment**  
oh i know  
but seriously ratch, did you drop your datapad?  
do you know anything about vos sending envoys to praxus?  
what?  
**our teachers would spontaneously overload if that happened**  
yeah  
why are you asking?  
its too early to think about classes  
we heard flightframes flying overhead  
**in praxus?**  
thats strange  
perhaps its supposed to be a secret  
if you really want to know i can look it up :(  
**we should do it anyway, all our teachers are going to talk about nothing but this for the next semester**  
yeah, that would be helpful  
better you than me. ;p_

A loud sound distracted him from the datapad again. Even the researcher stopped talking.

“What was that?” someone asked.

“Probably-” the TA couldn't finish her sentence as another loud sound rumbled in the distance.

The ground shook, the plaster raining from the ceiling. Everyone stumbled. Ratchet grabbed the wall for balance.

“What is going on?” someone squealed, their voice wavering.

The researcher put his fingers to his temple, calling someone, while the TA put her hands up.

“Calm down, it's probably-”

Another boom.

Ratchet crashed into the wall. Someone landed on him.

“We need to leave,” someone shrieked.

Ratchet pushed the mech off of him.

“Everyone stay calm,” the TA shouted, her voice barely steady. “If you just get in-”

“What?” the researcher blurted, his voice loud enough that they could hear him even over the panicked voices and the TA trying to fruitlessly calm people. “You are lying,” he spat into his comm..

“What is going on?” someone cried.

“It's…” The researchers eyes were almost white and he looked at them like he forgot others were even there. “They're-” he was cut off by another boom. Ratchet pressed himself to the wall as the aftershocks shook the building. Someone crashed into Ratchet's legs. He scrambled at the wall, trying to keep on his feet.

“Vos is bombing us!” the researcher shouted and his voice echoed in the silence after the shaking stopped.

That couldn't be true, was the first thought that popped into Ratchet's head. A shiver ran down his spine. It didn't make sense. Why would they...

“You are lying,” a speedster closer to the researcher shouted. “You are just trying to-” he trailed off. His arm was shaking. “To scare us or…”

“I'm not lying,” the researcher snapped, his voice trembling. “You think I would make up something like that...” he whispered. “They are bombing Praxus.” he stated blankly and stared unseeing at the floor.

“That doesn't make sense,” someone said, his voice hoarse. It was only when they turned to him that Ratchet realized it was him who spoke. “Praxus is the closest political ally of Vos,” he continued, trying to dreg up more information on this subject from his head. He wished he paid more attention in class.

“They aren't close to anyone,” the researcher spat. “They just despise us the least,” he chuckled, the sound hysterical. “Until now.”

Another explosion.

The crash of people falling almost overshadowed the shrill scream. It reverberated over the clang of bodies and ended in a sob.

The shaking lasted for what seemed like a cycle, but was just a few seconds according to his chronometer. They were still sobbing quietly.

He sat up. Everyone in the hall was laying around the floor, starting to move. Someone groaned, plates shifted against each other and the sobbing continued.

“Who is hurt?” Ratchet asked, his voice faint.

This caused the TA on the other side to push herself to his knees.

“Are you alright?” Her eyes scanned over the pile of students.

“Chrystal broke her arm,” someone answered.

Ratchet had no idea who that was, and cursed himself for deliberately not learning their names. At the time it was to show the uppity nerds, but now it just seemed childish. Thankfully the others turned so he didn't have to look for long.

The femme that they helped up was the kind of delicate that meant noble birth, her medics paint job touched up with light blue. Her arm was bent and she flinched when they moved her, her sobs quieting to whimpers.

Ratchet took a step closer. The one supporting Chrystal gently took her hand.

“Does someone have a mesh cloth?” The mech looked around at the others. “We need to make sure it doesn't move.”

Ratchet frowned. “Why aren't you fixing her?” He snapped.

“What?” Several of them looked at Ratchet like he said the stupidest thing they ever heard. Or puffed up in outrage.

“You are medics,” Ratchet crossed his arms self-consciously. “Why are you binding her arm and not fixing her?”

“We are specializing in medical research,” one of them said incredulously, as if that was supposed to be an answer to the question.

“Does that mean you don't know how to fix a broken arm?”

“No,” one of them snapped. “We don't have the equipment for it.”

”What is so diffi-”

Another explosion.

Ratchet saw the panic in Chrystal’s eyes. He dove forward and grabbed her. They fell to the floor. The impact jared through his whole body, but Chrystal didn’t scream from pain.

He stared at each other, the same panic reflecting in their eyes.

“They are getting clo-”

The right half of the hallway exploded.

He tensed his body.

Something heavy crashed into him.

**Author's Note:**

> come ask me questions or talk to me on my [tumblr](https://allhailwarlordratchet.tumblr.com/)  
> im trying to make friends :)


End file.
